Hoot Goes
by Evrheln
Summary: Sometimes fate likes to mess things up and piss you off before giving you the time of your life. A wintry tale of owls and kings, disintegrating hedge mazes, and playing in the snow instead of fixing it.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** It is regrettable to admit that I do not own the Labyrinth, or any of the remarkable characters in it. I did, however, own a blue teacup that was destroyed in an unfortunate accident. The memory still chokes me up.

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><p><strong>Prologue: Happy Non-holidays to All<strong>

During this wrongfully busy time of the year, Sarah has come to realise that even the most tiresome and ridiculously glittery folk can cheer you up and show you the meaning of your existence.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: When you've been attacked by a hedge, you give your sweetheart a visit<strong>

Jareth was a king. Born and bred in an atmosphere of aristocratic grace, he was accustomed to being revered by his subjects and other kingdoms as well. Despite this, he was oddly unsurprised when he found himself rudely woken up by a few of his subjects who thought it would be a good idea to deposit a veritable forest on his face. Still, he was a respectable ruler, and his duties therefore included dealing with misbehaving goblins.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" he roared through a mouthful of shrubbery. This caused his words to turn out rather garbled and unclear, as they tend to do when the speaker has a mouth stuffed with leaves.

The goblins carried on unperturbed. Completely oblivious to their king's cries of outrage and flailing about, they proceeded to cover him in vegetation, only pausing to examine the appeal of the floral arrangement. Only when their arms were rid of greenery did they step back and grin childishly as they surveyed their handiwork. His Majesty looked rather festive, and could probably pass off as some sort of Jungle Princess. Jareth, on the other hand, was not in the least interested in jungle princess endeavours and was fighting to disentangle himself from a mass of vines, which proved to be a rather worthy opponent as the more he struggled, the tighter they wrapped around him. He paused. _I'm an idiot_, he thought, as he clicked his fingers. At once, the pile of plants disappeared, revealing a very messy, but otherwise furious king, who despite being clothed in his pyjamas, could still make a grown man cower in fear.

The goblins were absolutely dumbstruck. "KING! KIIING! Leaves GONE!" After exchanging horrified looks, they cautiously looked around the room, presumably in search of a plant-stealing thief lurking in the shadows.

Jareth rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to lick an iron fork. "Indeed they are. What a travesty."

They nodded mournfully. "Where did they go?"

Jareth shut his eyes and slowly got out of bed. "They took a trip to the bog. Would anyone like to join them?" Jareth smiled pleasantly at the small group. Their eyes widened in fear, and they scrambled over each other to get to the door.

"Wait." Jareth grabbed the shirt of a small goblin with yellow socks. He lifted him up by the collar and stared at the little goblin. He gave the goblin a very stern look. "I would prefer not to know the purpose of this little act of treason, but the last tree-climbing festival was a few months ago. So why is it that I have been assaulted with various plant life this fine morning?"

The goblin gulped. "The leaf wall, your majesty! The leaf wall! One second, we're eating flowers, and then, leaf wall fell down! Leaves everywhere!" he positively bawled, as he trembled with shock at the horrific memory.

Jareth tilted his head. He dropped the goblin on his feet, and tried to ignore the piercing wails that seemed far too loud to have come out of a goblin so small. He pulled out a crystal and looked into it. Sure enough, a respectable part of his hedge maze seemed to have collapsed. He blinked. The hedge maze had stood for millennia, and the fact that it was crumbling was quite shocking indeed.

"So you thought that the best way of informing me of this was to interrupt my slumber and dump the remains of the hedge maze on my face?" he inquired.

They smiled and clapped their hands. Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. His labyrinth was disintegrating and his subjects seemed to think it was a game. Truly, his subjects were beings of utmost stupidity. They were tough, and almost impervious to any form of physical damage, but had the brains of a yak. He narrowed his eyes, and proceeded to shoo them away. It wasn't the first time that something like this had happened - he had watched a large part of the firey forest disappear into a hole in the ground the other day. Naturally, it had ended in the bog, and he didn't have the heart to fish it out.

_Why is the labyrinth self-destructing?_ he thought, as he absentmindedly kicked a goblin out of the window. He paused to think, and studied another goblin chewing on his boot with great concentration. The labyrinth was a physical manifestation of the dreams of the Aboveground, and the only reason that it would disappear is if it was entirely forgotten. Doubt filled his heart as he picked up the giggling goblin and sent it shrieking with laughter out the tower window. He knew that hardly anyone in the Aboveground believed in the Labyrinth, and that the only one whose dreams had fuelled the Labyrinth's existence was-

No. She couldn't have. Jareth had never counted on Sarah forgetting about the Labyrinth. She was too imaginative, too hopeful, and how could she forget the Labyrinth after all that had happened? She was its Champion, and if she decided to throw that memory away, no amount of power could possibly restore his kingdom back to its rightful state.

Not to mention the damage it would do to him. He would cease to exist, and would ultimately have to dwell in the land of forgotten, along with all the other broken dreams.

He shuddered. It had been years since he saw his Champion, and while he had occasionally gone to check up on her, he had seen no sign of her wanting to see him again.

_That be damned_, he thought, as he too exited through the tower window, _I'm going to see Sarah._

The rooftops glinted red under the Underground sun as the Goblin City basked in its dull twinkle. However, only those who really pay attention could see a snowy white owl (well mostly white – it had a few twigs caught in its feathers) spreading it's wings and soaring above the endless turns and curves of the Labyrinth. And if they decided to look even closer, they'd see that the owl seemed to catch the light of the sun, and flew with an air of grace and hope, perhaps to a better place, or possibly, to visit a loved one who he hoped had not forgotten.

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><p>Whoever said that winter was a cosy time of the year was obviously dropped on the head as a baby, Sarah thought, as she valiantly battled the freezing cold that was currently trying to numb her face. She had a chapter to write. Half a chapter, to be exact, but she wasn't sure if the paragraphs that she had previously forced her brain to squeeze out were going to stay or not. Probably not, she thought, as she peered at her document. The computer screen had decided to frost over, so she didn't really know what she was looking at. Sarah could already hear her editor's heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples and settled in for a long night of plot holes and grammar mistakes. She bit her lip. Working as a novelist had its perks, but the business was tight, and that meant working long hours when she should have been playing in the snow.<p>

At least she didn't go down the way Toby was going. He was on his way to become a banker. She grimaced. Finances were all good, but she couldn't fathom why managing money was her baby brother's biggest dream.

She needed a break. A luxuriously long break. To Florida, maybe, or somewhere she could recline on warm, white sands and read, or some out-of-the-way establishment where she could engage in performing arts and frolic about while people break into song-and-dance numbers around her. Wait a minute. That particular theatre dream had ended in an attack by a flock of geese, which lead to a suicide attempt by Cosette, and then a week's worth of tears and "This was supposed to be my big break!"s. Not a fun time.

She really needed to get this done. That particular scene had been overdue for a week and Sarah was sure that her editor was about to quit. Not that she blamed him. It was positively inhumane to be forced into working over the holidays. By the looks of it, her own holiday would have to wait a while. She rubbed her temples. Maybe if she made another cup of tea and took a shower, she could perfect the particularly tricky passage.

Just as she was about to get up, thunder crackled overhead and Sarah found herself leaping out of her chair and toppling rather ungracefully to the floor, flinging her then cold mug of Earl Grey to the ceiling, where a duck-shaped tea stain quickly took form. The mug achieved a moment of zero gravity, before it plummeted to the floor, where it met its ceramic death.

Wonderful, she thought, as she surveyed the blue shards scattered rather artistically around her bedroom floor. One of them seemed to be swimming in a pool of tea. Thankfully no one was around to witness that, partly because she didn't need the embarrassment, and partly because of the possibility that they would have been impaled by the lethal blue fragments.

She generously distributed death glares towards every window in her room, casting every single piece of snow sliding down the glass panels a scathing look. She hated snowstorms as much as she hated polyester fabric. Which was a lot of hatred for a decent young woman to possess.

"Nothing is going my way," she informed no one in particular. "I have so many things to do and now a mess to clean up, and it's. So. Cold!" She glared accusingly at her pillow, and felt the irrational urge to throw it out the window.

"You're stressed," her mind remarked pleasantly.

"Gee, I wonder why," she replied mournfully, sinking onto her armchair and running a hand through her hair. "Nothing seems to be working today."

Sarah didn't know what she wanted. She needed to get away. She needed to finish the chapter. But what she wanted? She had no clue, but something pulled her into a distant memory. A place filled with magic, and actually a fair bit of "getting away" as well. Come to think about it, there should have been more "coming towards" during that series of events. Especially towards those pants...

Wait, what? Sarah gave her mental self a stern look. She didn't want to think about that incident, even though she sometimes found herself dreaming about crystal ballrooms and endless flights of stairs.

Which was irritating, really, as it was quite inconvenient when ordering at a drive-thru when all she could think about was hallucinogenic fruit.

Maybe it was just a dream, she mused, no point in living in a fairytales when the real world is more interesting.

The real world was reminding her that she had a broken mug to sweep up.

Right. "No time to have your head in the clouds when reality has to continually slap you in the face," Sarah muttered. Reality decided to retaliate by sending another loud noise into the small room. Sarah gave a theatrical screech of terror and collapsed back onto the chair. It seemed to come from the window again, and Sarah turned to the offending sheet of glass with a murderous look.

"Oh, for the love of God..."

She stopped and tilted her head in astonishment as she caught a glimpse of a white blur hurling itself repeatedly against the window and flapping it's wings rather erratically. It was an owl, a very distressed and drenched owl, but an owl, no more, no less.

There was something wrong about an owl flying around in the middle of the day, but there was something else that made her hesitant to save the poor thing. Something bigger.

It gave her the saddest, most pathetic look an owl can muster.

Sarah pursed her lips and shoved that feeling aside. If her heated apartment was cold, she couldn't imagine what it must be like outside. She had to act quickly before the owl turned into a feathery ice cube. With great purpose, she tiptoed around the broken shards to unlatch the window, and reached out to pull the little owl in. Granted, she was still wary of wild birds after the unfortunate Les Miserables incident, but the big wet eyes that pleaded for her help were too irresistible.

"Aww," she bravely ignored the fact that her hands were turning blue and scooped up the sad-looking ball of wet feathers and hugged it to her chest. It shivered in her arms as she skilfully waltzed around the shards once again to find a towel for the small bird. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she cradled the trembling bundle as it cooed and nuzzled her arm. It purred contentedly and opened it eyes slowly, giving her an exceedingly smug look.

Something in her brain stirred and she narrowed her eyes. Wait a minute; she'd seen this owl before! Her mind helpfully supplied images of a canine smile, a trick snake and a deep melodious voice telling her about the castle beyond the Goblin City.

Her lips curled in disgust as she shoved the owl to the tiles and crossed her arms indignantly.

It landed with a flurry of feathers and in a split second; the Goblin King was sprawled on all fours in the middle of Sarah's bathroom. Not a single drop of water was on his person, and not a hair out of place, save for the pool of glitter that he was currently lying in. Even so, it dusted his cloak in a very regal fashion.

Sarah wrinkled her nose in disgust. Should have known. It didn't faze her a single bit that the Goblin King would have stalker tendencies. Honestly, the fact that his Glitteriness was hanging around her window and spying on her in his owl form only served to verify that all she had dreamt of was real - and sparkly, too. Sarah wasn't sure whether that deserved relief of disappointment. She was almost ready to let go of her then fictional childhood crush, only to have him barge his way into her arms. Not exactly the dramatic rendezvous she had secretly anticipated, but still. He was real, and he was here. However, this was still the glorified sadomasochist of a Goblin King that she was talking about, and heaven knew what he wanted. It was all well and good that she was finally meeting him again, but he still had treacherous intentions.

Sarah rolled her eyes and wondered if restraining orders could apply to beings of another realm. Even so, she knew that he would blatantly disregard her every word. Restraining order, tra la la. What a jackass.

What did he want? It had been more than a decade since she had seen him and her friends from the Labyrinth. That particular reminder struck a nerve. What had happened to the "Should you need us/I'll call" arrangement? Saying, "Hoggle I need you" to the mirror had once been efforts to bring back the cranky old dwarf, but had now become pathetic attempts to jest at her obvious psychological needs. He didn't appear of course. She bit her lip. Did that somehow explain why Jareth was here?

While Sarah was musing over the betrayal of her friends and the trickery of their king, Jareth had rolled over and propped himself on his elbows, before grinning at her wickedly. Even after being brutally thrown to the ground, he seemed extremely happy.

"My, my, Precious, if only I had known that there was a side of you that harboured such affection for me. Trust me, I would have come sooner," he remarked, raising one delicate eyebrow. Sarah resisted the urge to throw a toothbrush at him. Even though he seemed to be joking with her, he clearly didn't think it necessary to thank her. She understood that it was part of his kingly nature to be haughty, but really? Before she had the chance to retort, he continued, "Truth be told, that is possibly the most love and adoration I have received in centuries. I can assure you that it was quite pleasant."

Ta da. Obnoxious, overbearing king of glitter has come to gloat over Sarah's moment of foolishness. Brilliant.

Sarah was determined not to stand agape as he rose to his feet in all his glittery glory.

"Nice to see you too, GK. Been a while. Tell me, are you frequently reduced to a crying, fluffy mess? Or is it something you do to get the girls?"

Jareth shot her a dark look. "Now, Precious, as much as I admire your sharp tongue, it's not nice to make fun of a poor chap caught in the rain." He smirked. "And yes, I do fancy putting on a submissive face. But only for the right girls." He draped himself against the doorjamb and gave her a lecherous grin. His eyes taunted her, _say your right words, my sweet.__  
><em>  
>Sarah wanted to punch him. Repeatedly. While it wasn't surprising, and quite in-keeping with his character, it wasn't okay for someone to show up out of the blue and act like an overly flirtatious stripper. He didn't even say hello.<p>

"That's nice, Goblin King. I'm sure throwing yourself through the window instead of coming through the front door like a respectable guest is equally attractive. Now, if you would please exit through the main door, I have work to do."

Her words were as sharp as knives, but Sarah didn't really want him to go. Be that as it may, she wasn't ready to face him again. Sure, she had thought of countless scenarios in which she met her old nemesis, but she couldn't face being taunted just as she was so ready to let him go.

Jareth was quite taken aback. There was a pang in his chest. Well not a pang, the stars would fall out of the sky before he felt something as insipid as heartache, he thought bitterly. He clenched his fists in his cloak. She clearly didn't want to see him again. She didn't want anything to do with the Labyrinth anymore. The Labyrinth was right. She had not only forgotten, she hardly cared.

Sarah's eyes widened as she watched Jareth let out a heavy sigh and made to leave. Even though she couldn't bear the tension of him being here, she couldn't let him go back into the storm. He may be pompous and tiresome, but she couldn't deny that he was good company. And it wasn't like he could hurt her now. _I've got a kitchen full of iron utensils, she thought, if he decides to pull any tricks, he's going face on with my saucepan._ After that consolation, she noticed him staring at her electric toothbrush curiously. It was endearing, and you know what?Maybe she did want him to stay, after all. He'd come all this way to see her. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist, and tugged him towards her.

Jareth spun around and gave her an incredulous look. Never in his life had he been pushed and pulled around so forcefully. But this was his Champion, after all, he thought. She is a feisty one.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just having a bad day, and your entrance took me by surprise is all. And I hate thunderstorms, and there's a tea stain on my ceil-"

"You're bleeding." Jareth pointed at her bathroom rug.

Sarah had been subconsciously pacing back and forth, and apparently left spots of blood on the otherwise pristine rug. Turns out that her waltz to the bathroom hadn't been so skilful after all.

"Right. Ah... could you?" she clamped a hand over her mouth. Jareth raised an eyebrow. Good job, Sarah, she reprimanded herself, you tell him to get lost, and now you want him to bleach your furniture. She shook her head. "Yeah, I'll get this washed and we can have tea and chat. Oh gosh, the tea mug..."

"Sarah." He quirked a smile and with a flick of his wrist, the stains on the rug were gone and the sting of the wound disappeared. She raised her foot, and sure enough, the cut was gone. She blinked. "If you'd like to know, the tea stain and the broken goblet have been dealt with as well. Fortunately, I was there to enjoy that particularly entertaining fiasco. However, owls cannot laugh. Such a pity." His words were full of mirth, and there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye.

Sarah felt the urge to punch him in the arm. Or give him a hug. Possibly both. At the same time. She settled with returning his smirk. She was still rather wary of his tricks, but he seemed sincere enough. Still, you never knew.

"Thanks?" She said testily. Thanking the Goblin King. If only Hoggle could see her now.

He grinned at her. "Well, I am generous, as you may well remember," he said mildly.

Self-righteous nuisance again. Funny how she had forgotten that, even if for a minute. With a shake of her head, she lead him to the window seat, sat him down, and ran off to put the kettle on. The storm had more or less cleared up, and she could hear him tutting at the funny decorations on the houses across the street and chuckling at the children having snowball fights in the late-November frost. Smiling fondly, she cast the screaming kettle a loving glance. Was it just her, or did Jareth give off a different feel this time? There was no niggling doubt, or any element of danger about him, and did it seem like he had some sort of hope in coming here? Only time would tell, though. Sarah had a feeling that this wasn't just an "I'm just dropping by to see how you're doing" kind of visit. He had a purpose in coming here, and she had a feeling that it was a good one.

But right now, she had other things to think about. For example, figuring out whether the Goblin King preferred English Breakfast or Chai.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Labyrinth, it's characters, or Dora the Explorer trays, but I can try baking cookies for you. However, I advise that you throw them away immediately, for my baking skills are rather appalling.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Chilly down, Chilly down. Or why you should always make sure your flowery heart has a bungee cord.<strong>

Sarah eyed the Goblin King as he desperately tried to resist making grabby hands at the plate of cookies that she was carrying. The smell that wafted from them was enough to send her into a trance.

"Listen, GK," she said, deftly swinging the tray out of the way of his grabby hands. "No cookies until I get some answers."

"You do realize whom you are talking to," he replied snootily. This girl seemed to think that she could jostle him about, like he was some sort of magic puppet ready to do whatever she wished.

_Oh the irony_, he thought.

"I am fully aware of whom I'm talking to, but you're in my kingdom, pal. There aren't any oubliettes or bogs here that you can toss me into."

She had a point. Jareth resorted to pouting regally.

Sarah took a deep breath. "Why couldn't I call my friends all these years? You know, Hoggle? Ludo? What did you do?"

She was fuming, he could tell. He reclined gracefully on the seat, and motioned for her to sit. She did, after moving the cookies behind her, and out of reach.

"After you became Champion, everyone insisted on blabbing about you incessantly. There were crudely draw posters of you stuck to the walls, and even a song written in your name. If I can recall, it's called "Shiny brown hair lady kicks Majesty's butt", or something of that nature."

Sarah bit back a laugh, and gestured for him to go on.

"Worst of all were the new summons. That blasted Hogwash insisted on mentioning your name every second. 'Sarah found the gate quicker than you', 'Sarah didn't cry when she smelled the bog', believe me, it was frustrating for both the runner and me. Your other friends, and a considerable part of my kingdom, thought it necessary to compare every one of the runners to you, which made them curl up in a ball and cry, at which point my brainless subjects wholeheartedly joined them in the weeping. My ears bled, Sarah. And so did my sanity when that Ludo troll's wails summoned an entire landslide." He narrowed his eyes. "I wanted to skin him and make a cloak out of his fur."

He ignored her death glare, and continued speculating about what a fantastic coat he could make out of her friend. It took a poke in the arm to get him back on track.

"I had to take matters in hand, Precious. I need my runners to be filled with blind hope, and having my goblins continually…. What is that term you mortals enjoy saying?... ah yes, "throw shade" at them was really not helping."

Sarah snickered.

"So I do hope that you would forgive me. I am positive that they have not completely forgotten you, as I do come across the occasional 'Sarah' figurine carved out of a potato every now and again."

Sarah considered this. It felt good to be recognised as a National Hero, with a ballad and her own merchandise to boot, and she did understand why Jareth did what he did. Sacrifices must be made, even if they turned her batshit crazy.

"Fine. I'll forgive you. But a little card might have been nice. Something like 'Hi Sarah. Due to technical difficulties, I'm closing the mirror portal for a while. Love, Jareth.' would be okay."

She noticed his look of revulsion.

"Or maybe 'You will not contact your friends anymore. You have refused my gifts, and deserve nothing.'"

Jareth raised a perfectly arched brow. "I can be cruel, Sarah."

"I've noticed that. I, however, having the moral high ground, shall not be cruel. Want a cookie?" She waved it enticingly in front of his nose, secretly relieved that her friends hadn't abandoned her after all.

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><p>There was just something about having the Goblin King in your living room, drinking out of your teacup, and eating cookies that you just baked the day before that made you feel oddly satisfied. Sarah found it exceptionally refreshing to watch Jareth in such a docile and cookie-crumb-encrusted state. They had been getting along surprisingly well for the past half an hour, and he was currently watching the commotion outside with keen interest, almost that of an intrigued child.<p>

She only realised that she was staring at him fondly when she heard him clear his throat and ask, "Sarah?"

"Hmm, what?" she replied, halfway between dazed and mortified at being caught staring at him. He appeared not to have noticed, much to her relief.

"There seem to be children outside throwing diseased fruit at each other. I'd expect them to be having a good time about it, but they appear to be pelting the fruit with intention to kill. A mortal tradition, perhaps? Or a requirement to fight your duels with decaying apples?" he inquired. He was dead serious, and clearly wanted answers.

Sarah knitted her eyebrows and looked out the window. The neighbour's children had started a decidedly loud brawl in their backyard, throwing ornaments at each other and shoving unsuspecting victims into snow piles. They were an unruly bunch, and Sarah made it a point to always carry an umbrella whenever she walked past them, in case she ever needed to deflect snowballs and the odd plastic cup. By the looks of it, they had started to put up a Christmas tree, and ended up fighting about it.

"Oh, Jareth. They're not diseased fruit. They're Christmas ornaments!" She paused, and pondered for a while.

"But in this case, diseased fruit wouldn't exactly be a surprise, given the fact that these people have a penchant for flinging around whatever's in the general vicinity." She laughed. "And no, decent people don't go around throwing fruit at each other for Christmas. Nor is it any sort of law. Can you imagine the smell that it would bring?"

As she was happily conjuring up an image of her neighbourhood filled with organic waste and maggots, while people celebrated Christmas cheer surrounded by waves of noxious fumes, she did not notice that Jareth had shot up, and that eyes had widened in shock. Unbeknownst to her, her simple words had made tiny flowers grow in his heart. For starters, she had used his name. Not his title, but his name. Something about that made him all tingly inside. Secondly, this was the first time he had ever heard her laugh, and it was marvellous. But best of all, she didn't seem angry, or wary of his presence. She seemed at ease, and nothing like the wild mess that he had encountered an hour ago. A teeny tiny part of him congratulated himself for bringing about her sudden pleasant state of mind, and immediately started watering the flowers in his heart.

However, it is important to note that the rest of Jareth's heart was too prideful to admit that these things pleased him. Naturally, he attributed the warm feeling to the tea, stamped all over his feelings, locked them up in a box, and sat on said box. He curled his lip in disgust ay this sudden burst of touchy-feely weakness.

Sarah noticed his expression of distaste. "Yeah, I know. Living near them is like living with the goblins. Never a minute of peace and quiet."

That brought him back to his senses. He glared forcefully at the pink, plastic Dora the Explorer tray that Sarah had brought the food with.

"Oh, Precious. This does not even amount to HALF the agony and tedium that comes with spending every waking minute with those loathsome creatures," he grumbled, making a mental note to send the group of hedge-dumping goblins into an oubliette. Covered in thorns. Infested with maggots. And filled with prune juice. At the mention of that diabolical substance, his lips curled into an equally diabolical smile. _Prune juice. That'll show them._

He watched as Sarah slumped over and covered her face with her hands. Nothing like hearing about other people's responsibilities to remind you of your own. _He could finish my entire novel with a wave of his hand, _she thought bitterly, _and a sequel. _But authors are authors, and writing a book would be worthless if it wasn't crafted with sweat, tears, and blood.

It was then that Jareth noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the way that her hair stuck up in a very beaver-resembling fashion. His eyes travelled down to observe the smear of ketchup on her shirt, and the odd cornflake adhered to her knee.

He felt a twinge of pity for her, and yet a perverse sense of gladness that he wasn't the only one going through a painful ordeal.

He also understood that it was Christmas, and while it was in his opinion a disagreeably absurd event that entailed garish decorations, suffocating family gatherings, and now beastly children assaulting each other with elements of yuletide festivities, it seemed to be something of utmost importance to Sarah. He had noticed how wistful she looked when she had mentioned it. And of what he had seen of her house, there wasn't even a hint of a Christmas twig lying around. He wanted to rebuild a connection between him, Sarah, and the Labyrinth, and it would be impossible if she was in a funk. _If its Christmas she wants, its Christmas she'll get. _Let it not go unsaid that he was generous.

Sarah felt highly uncomfortable as Jareth scrutinised her, then proceeded go into deep thought and frown at nothing. She was worried that he disapproved of her appearance, and started to feel a little bit self-conscious. It must have been quite traumatic to visit the human world, only to be greeted by a grumpy and dishevelled woman who looked like she just stepped out of a tornado.

It thus came as a surprise when Jareth announced that she was to return with him to the Labyrinth.

In fact, she was, lack of a better word, flabbergasted.

"What? For how long? I have stuff to do! Hang on a minute, we've only spent a little more than an hour together, and you want to whisk me off to a place I haven't been in years? You know, only yesterday, I was convincing myself that it wasn't real! Don't you think this is a little bit too rushed?" she sputtered out, as she floundered about on the window seat in panic.

And just like that, Jareth's heart plummeted. No, his heart cannon-bombed into a bottomless oubliette without even a bungee cord attached to it. Sarah was trying to forget the Labyrinth. It wasn't lost in the current of time; it was an act of will.

He turned away from her. So much for paying her a visit. Never in his dreams had he imagined that Sarah would cast the Labyrinth away. Things could be recovered when accidentally lost, but when thrown away? He knew a worthless cause when he saw one.

"But you have no idea how relieved I am that it exists. And I would love to go, if I didn't have to work."

Somewhere, in the depths of a virtual oubliette, a bungee cord appeared and bounced Jareth's heart back to where it used to be. It laughed and proceeded to do eight cartwheels in quick succession. He couldn't believe his ears. Sarah wanted to forget the labyrinth, but it obviously wasn't because she never wanted to see it again.

She smiled at him. "I'm glad I'm not crazy. You should have seen the psychiatrist's face when I told him about the Labyrinth." She made a face, the kind of face that you would make when confronted with the sight of Ludo in a tutu.

Sarah could have sworn there were stars in Jareth's eyes. And when he laughed, she couldn't resist the urge to giggle along with him. She'd only heard him laugh scornfully at her and poor Hoggle, and his genuine laugh reminded her of birds flying in the sky and waves breaking against rocks; free, alleviated, like the release of a huge burden.

"Sarah, it matters not," he told her, after a considerable amount of burden-releasing. He grinned wolfishly at her confused stare. "As you may recall, I have reordered time, and I can do it again," he said resolutely.

That made her freeze. _Of course. _That way, she could have possibly the most interesting Christmas ever, and not worry about the chapter. Then again, it seemed too good to be true. She had grown increasingly astonished at the way they had gone through half an hour of conversation without pissing each other off, and she had almost believed that it was an (arguably cheerier, and excitable) impostor that had beat the Goblin King up, wrapped him up with duct tape, disposed of him, and taken his place, all in the five minutes that she was gone.

Well, until she accidentally dropped a cookie on the floor and earned a patronizing look from him. All Goblin King there.

_But what's a good story without risks,_ she mused, remembering her old literature professor's words as she bit her lip. Twenty years of mundane everyday routines and work, work, work… She was critically in need of some fun.

Her scepticism was interrupted.

"Worry not, Sarah. Seeing as your last visit there involved bashing up my army, turning my own subjects against me, and causing large scale destruction in my kingdom," He narrowed his eyes. "Which I should have asked you to repair, by the way, do you know how difficult it is to restore an entire city ravaged by boulders?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, and despite her better judgement, chuckled at his obvious dismay.

"I'm sure you'll be able to survive," he finished, tutting at her. She seemed rather proud of herself -as she should be, he begrudgingly admitted. She had taken on his previously unsolvable labyrinth and pretty much danced through it, making friends along the way, and stomped all over his ego within thirteen – no, ten – hours.

_I suppose that is true,_ Sarah thought, and when he put it like that, she felt a surge of undisputable power. Her mind supplied images of her arsenal of kitchen tools that had the potential to inflict some serious harm on all who crossed her path. _Test me, _she imagined herself saying, _and it will be head-bashing time._ She was infinitely comforted by that.

It would be good to see her old friends, too, after being wrongfully denied of her contact rights.

She looked at Jareth, and then looked at her computer screen.

"I'll get packed," she told him. She almost missed his not-so-secretive smug grin of triumph.

_Oh yeah, first thing in the bag is an iron saucepan._


End file.
